


As He Never Lived

by theoreticallychaotic



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Inspired by Music, Masturbation, Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy, self-cest if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-13 00:06:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1205482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoreticallychaotic/pseuds/theoreticallychaotic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: Listening to my Phantom-soundtrack, I couldn't help but think of young Javert being seduced by Lady Justice, who wants his undying and un-devoted loyalty (much like Eric wants from Christine). Whether it is a dream or something (sur)real, I don't care. I just want to see Javert literally fall in love with the law. Quast!vert preferred, everything else is up to A!a.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As He Never Lived

Night-time, darkness. Javert arrived home and, like every other night, set aside his cudgel and hat and prepared for bed; hidden away from the stars and in the comfort of his narrow bed and uneven mattress sleep soon came for him, accompanied by his stirring imagination that prised his senses from their defences. She had appeared so many times: she had started as a hazy figure in the shadowy realm of this dream world he oft retreated too and now, slowly and gently, the night finally unfurled its splendour. She propped her sword next to his nightstick and hung her faultlessly balanced scales next to his hat. There was no mystical aura, just a muted glow seeping through the shutters as Javert reached out to her. His long fingers slid deftly through the ripples of silk, acquainting themselves with the slender figure beneath. Even here, in this universal blackness that held only him and her, his spirit was tremulous yet tender. The lithe woman encircled so perfectly in his strong arms, leaned further into him. A pale, statuesque hand stroked along a downy sideburn and pressed against his jaw to coax him away from the day’s garish light – so cold and unfeeling on the streets of Paris – and to bask in their darkest, brightest dreams.

Iustitia: the only woman Javert felt able to truly love and respect. Iustitia, the only woman who was able to, as now, effortlessly ease herself into Javert’s life, dreams and bedchamber. She needed no permission to wrap herself around him: her smooth, nimble legs straddled his own muscular thighs that were still swathed beneath the woollen blanket; her arms curved over his broad shoulders. She tucked her head neatly into the crook of his neck and kissed him there with her red lips. With each kiss, Javert felt his senses sharpen, the sensations rapidly heighten.

He had to get that infuriating blindfold off of her. 

Her kisses dotted his face and her hands traced over his bare chest while he stroked the chestnut waves of her hair several times before coming to a halt on the rigid knot of the blindfold. She made a noise, a squeak of panic, as her hand came up and clamped over Javert’s.

“You would have me look at you?” she pulled back and levelled her face to his, “You would be content not to be judged as an equal to all other men?”

“Not all men are equal.” A tiger’s smile stalked through Javert’s voice as he clawed at the knot. 

The material fell away, tumbling to the dark abyss of the room, revealing wide eyes as cerulean as his own. In an unhurried movement, her hand left Javert’s and trailed up to the back of his head. Finding a knot there, she tugged and unleashed his queue from its harsh binding. 

“We shall be the same.” Her voice drawled delicately into his ear. “Trust me.” 

At that she pressed firmly on his wide shoulders, encouraging him to lie back upon the pillows. She remained astride him whilst she loosened the fastening of her robe. With a confident grasp she raised Javert’s hands to her body:

“Touch me” she commanded, her voice low. 

Javert was acutely aware of his cantering heart, trembling hands and rousing cock as he threaded the snowy fabric free of her body and cupped his hands around her. Her own soft, deft touch pressed again to his heated skin whilst her feet frantically kicked and shoved the blanket to the end of the bed. Her body pressed firmly against Javert’s and her long hair curtained around them as she resumed taunting him with her lips. Javert responded in kind; he touched a hand to her cheek and grazed his rough lips against hers. Javert was aware of little else as she surrounded him, opening up his mind, unwinding his fantasies. He gave over with no fight or protestation when she drew him deep within her; the journey she induced him to embark upon as he lay beneath her, willing and pliant, was new, and one which Javert was content for her to lead. Each rocking motion tugged him further and further into this new world; a roll and he was in command, the world he called home falling far behind with each thrust. Her legs hooked fittingly around his waist as he drove another wild cry from her; a music unique to the night. 

“Yours” Javert affirmed in a coarse growl before he felt himself become sweetly intoxicated, floating and falling from the zenith she had led him to. 

Javert lay gasping, eyes closed, as he fought to feel her touch and savour each sensation; strong at first before steadily receding, like darkness into day. His dream had begun and his darker side had won, and though reality now pricked his conscience to wake him to his wet hand and sweat-slicked body, he knew he would one day find her again as he took flight to the bottom of the Seine.

**Author's Note:**

> I adore 'The Music of the Night', I think it's one of the most beautiful and sensual songs in musical theatre. And of course, my adoration for Les Mis and Javert and Philip Quast, is already known. This was purely experimental though (and fun) to combine all these wonderful things (I cling to a sliver of hope that PQ may publically sing this song one day). More than anything I'm hoping that the surreal quality I was going for has come though and that the inclusion of the lyrics wasn't too jarring. 
> 
> Iustitia is from the Latin for 'Justice'.
> 
> Comments, kudos and rotten tomatoes being thrown in my direction are appreciated as ever.


End file.
